The Paths We Take
by Emery Board
Summary: After the destruction of Malachor V, the Exile tries to say goodbye. One-shot, made to give some closure to the rather abrupt end of KOTOR: The Sith Lords


It was a terrible day for goodbyes.

The Exile looked down at her crew from the Ebon Hawk's ramp as they stood in a loose, straggling line. Mandalore –Canderous –had been dropped off on Dxun with his clan, laden with the goodwill spoils of Onderon and tales of honour and glory that would make even the most jaded Mandalorian green with envy.

A drop of rain splattered against her nose, and the Exile looked up into the grey, forbidding clouds. Of course, she thought gloomily. If there had to be one rainy, miserable day on Dantooine, it would be today.

They were all still talking –Mira and HK-47 arguing about the various scopes for their blaster rifles, Visas staring out towards the Enclave with eyes that saw both less and more, as she stood by Disciple's side. Bao-Dur was making one more frustrated attempt to convince T3-M4 to accept some basic maintenance, and Atton was complaining to the world in general about what the rain on this Force-forsaken planet would do to his health.

She could almost see their separate paths before them, sparkling in her mind's eyes. They would all walk in the Light, she knew, and her path was drawing her away from them. She was heading for the dark, cold areas of space. Where the Force grows colder, and more dominating. Where the chance to manipulate it instead of letting it work through you becomes more and more attractive . . .

The Exile shook her head. No, she had travel alone. None of them deserved where she was going.

As if some lever had been pulled, or a hidden signal given, the noise died down. Every eye turned to the Exile in automatic recognition of her authority. Yet another reminded of why she had to leave them behind. She stepped down from the ramp, and felt her spine straighten and her shoulders drop in the 'speech to the troops' posture she hadn't needed to use in years.

"Men," she began.

"Hey!" Mira tried to look indignant, but the laugh in her eyes robbed the tone of any offence.

The Exile tried to smile. She was going to miss them. She started again.

"Friends," she said, and was appalled to find her voice wanted to choke on the word. "We've been to hell and back in our little leaky tub." That got a laugh, even though there wasn't really anything amusing about it. "Been pretty much everywhere, done almost everything . . . faced Sith and Dark Jedi and Atton's cooking." That got a slightly more genuine laugh, and Atton's lip curled in reluctant agreement.

"None of what we have done would have been possible without any of you." She looked at each of them. Mira the bounty hunter, Bao-Dur the engineer, Visas the seer. The droids she had grown to know and depend on. And Atton –no, she couldn't think about Atton. Not now.

Short and sweet, she reminded herself. Short and sweet and final. If she kept talking for much longer, she had a horrible feeling she'd burst into tears. Atton was already starting to look suspicious, and Mira was giving her full attention from slightly narrowed eyes.

"You have been, without a doubt, the most unique crew I have ever sailed with." Her eyes scanned the faces. Iridonian, Miraluka, human, Mandalorian and droid. All so different, but drawn together by the Force for this purpose.  
"We managed to save the Republic," she went on, trying not to think of Kreia's last words. _A slow death that will last for millennia . . ._ It had to be enough. She would _make_ it be enough.

"And I couldn't have done it in better company. You are worthy to found the new Jedi Order. Drawn together by the Force, strengthened through conflict and armed by experience." She wished she could shake their hands, one last time, but knew that if she did, she's never be able to make herself leave them. "I am going to follow in Revan's footsteps. I'll take the Ebon Hawk as far as it can go –and then," she hesitated. "I'll go where the Force leads me. Our paths go different ways now." She hadn't meant to say that. She hadn't said it since . . . since Revan and Malachor V. But she ploughed on, ignoring the sudden jerk of emotion.

"May the Force be with you," she said, and the words were the most difficult she's had to say, maybe bar one. "May the Force be with all of you."

Bao-Dur smiled. "You know, Atton," he said, turning his head sideways to meet the man's eyes, "I get the feeling the General's trying to get rid of us."

Atton made big, shocked eyes as he looked from Bao-Dur to the Exile, then back to the technician. "No! Really?"

The Exile stared. She had expected protestations, maybe stoically dutiful goodbyes. She certainly hadn't expected everything to be smiling, as though she had been left out of a joke. Even Visas' lips were curled in a rare display of emotion.

"I'm going to the Outer Rim," she repeated, wondering which bit of this had previously escaped their attention. "On my own. To find Revan."

"I have heard there is a planet out there bigger than Coruscant and made entirely of ice," Visas commented serenely. "I have always wondered what type of life must flourish in such a place."

The Exile focused on the single problem. "Visas, you can't come. No one can."

Visas just looked at her from sightless eyes. "My path has ended. Now, I follow yours."

The Exile looked at the nodding crew, and waved to the right, to where the ruins of the Jedi Enclave still stood. "You are to be the Masters of a new Jedi Order," she said urgently. "Kreia told me –"

Atton snorted. "Oh yeah, because listening to Darth Kreia always worked out _so_ well."

" –you have a destiny," she continued doggedly. "You are ready to take your places at the head of the new Order –"

"I disagree." Disciple's soft voice broke in, and Atton's jaw fell open. Mical –disagreeing? "We know only what you have taught us, and barely that." And his eyes actually _twinkled_, dammit! "Perhaps later, when we are more knowledgeable . . ."

"Like a learn on the job kinda thing," Mira added. "I mean, let's face it. You're really going make Atton a _Master_? I can't really see Pazaak as a valued part of the Jedi code."

Atton's eyes locked with the Exile's, and he smiled slightly. "I don't know about that," he said, eyes laughing with the joke only they understood, "but I refuse to stand in front of a pack of Padawan trying to pretend I know what I'm teaching them. What am I going to tell them anyway? The ability to talk without being cryptic and annoying?"

She realised with something very like shock, that he actually had a point. What were the worlds coming to?

"Revan left everyone behind," she said. "She left . . . the admiral. She couldn't take anyone with her, not even –"

_Tell Revan . . . Onasi is waiting for her._

"Maybe Revan was wrong," said Mira bluntly. "Did you ever think of that? Maybe she'd spent too long guarding her own back. Maybe she'd forgotten allies can help you as well as hinder."

The Exile actually took a step back at that, as if Mira had offered to strike her.

"Revan was," she started to say, then stopped. Revan was . . . what? A Jedi? Her commanding officer? A friend?

Visas said quietly, "However great Revan became, she is still only mortal. She is not unable to make mistakes." She smiled, a surprisingly sweet expression. "I used to think relying upon friends was a sign of weakness, that the reliance showed only fear of what is to come. But I have seen you fight, seen you face down my old Master. I no longer believe this."

Helplessly, the Exile turned to Bao-Dur, but there was no help to be found in that quarter. He winked.

"Wherever you go, General, you're going to need a technician, and a friend." He smirked. "I saw you try to repair that broken light filament. It wasn't pretty."

"Indignant Statement: Master, you cannot possibly be suggesting to leave me behind! The statistical likelihood of death-inducing violence is far greater in your presence."

Deet-boop! added T3-M4 indignantly. Dwee . . . beep, doot!

Atton stepped forward. "Face it, 'General'," he advised. "We're coming with you if it means Mira sticking you with a Bothan stunner and chaining you to the hold."

Exile opened her mouth –and Mira pulled a grey metal rod from her pack. Exile shut her mouth again. Carefully.

"We're with you," Atton told her, stepping in and putting a hand on her shoulder. He gripped it firmly, and the Force told her he was shockingly sincere. "Until the end. _I'm_ with you, wherever your path takes you."

He released her and stepped back, still holding her gaze, but leaving her to make up her own mind. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers though, like a circle of tender bruises.

She looked at them, one by one. And every one of them looked back at her with the same expression. Loyalty, determination –and smug certainty. Even HK-47 was holding his rifle at a particularly jaunty angle.

An eternity waited on her words. Possibilities held their breath . . . paths lay untrod before her feet. All she had to do was choose the way she meant to walk.

Then she laughed. "I really don't get much of a choice, do I?"

Her chosen path solidified under her feet, possibilities falling away to reveal one clear certainty.

"Before we go anywhere," she found herself saying, "we're working on some lightsaber drills. Most of you still seem to think you're hauling a vibroblade through the air, the way you swing. "

"Bao-Dur doesn't," Atton said slyly. "I saw him using his to met some solder –"

"How would you like to wake up stapled to the bulkhead?" asked Bao-Dur pleasantly.

"Query: Is there a likely chance of violence in the near future?"

"One, two, three . . ." Mira looked up from her pack. "Umm, boss? Know if that Annkere guy is still open for business? I have so few rocket launchers it's not funny."

"Such emotionalism leads to the Dark Side," Visas reminded Atton, interrupting his cheerful recitation of his list of indignities to perform on Bao-Dur if he even _thought_ about tattooing 'I brake for droids' on his back while he slept.

"It's never been a problem up to now," he informed her. "Besides –"

"Hey –who stole my handcuffs?" Mira complained. "Atton, if you've taken them –"

"Possible Solution: I believe you left them in your quarters. Unnecessary Clarification: attached to your bed frame after –"

"One more word, HK, and I swear I'll slice you into scrap metal!"

Normally, the Exile would have been tearing her hair out by now –or wondering if it she could Persuade them all to sleep for a week or two. Now she just threw back her head and laughed.

She didn't know where they were going, only just grasped the why, and wasn't all too clear on the what for –but right now, it didn't matter. She could see the path in front of her. It had shadows and hidden dangers, but more importantly, it ran side by side with her crew. Whatever they faced, they would be facing it together.

Mira whirled her stunner. "Told you to shut your mouth, droid."

"Agitated Exclamation: You have removed my trigger arm! Demand: Iridonian, re-attach it!"

Well . . . almost together anyway.


End file.
